“Pretty well right, thanks,” replied Travers to Fair’s welcome, adding immediately with much excitement, “and by Jove, old man, have you seen the evening papers? You’ve got a lot of those Empire shares, haven’t you? Well, the blooming things went up to two hundred and eighty today.”
“Not really?” exclaimed Fair, enjoying the innocent’s naïve idea that all this was news to the man who had put up the shares to that altitude. “Baxter, some brandy and soda. Look sharp.”
“Yes, sir; thank you, sir,” answered Baxter with spirit as he trotted out after the brandy and soda, pathetically clutching the hope that his young master’s case could not be so desperate after all, since he was meeting his friend’s high spirits with equally high ones.
“You picked up these shares, didn’t you,” asked Travers, sitting on the end of the table, “when they were being kicked about the Street at about twenty? Lord, what a lucky devil you are. I, on the contrary, bought those beastly Australian King shares, and they went up also—in smoke.”
“I am lucky, am I not?” acquiesced Fair, glancing over at the chest. “In fact, I wanted to talk to you tonight about myself. Do you see this pistol? Do you recognize it?” he went on, with so abrupt a change of subject and expression that Travers stood up with an uncomfortable look.
“Perfectly,” he answered, after taking up the pistol and looking at it; “it is the one poor Ponsonby gave you—but what’s the game, old man?”
“Examine it. Is it loaded?” asked Fair with tormenting mystery.
“Yes. All the chambers are full. Translate, please,” said Travers after carefully inspecting the revolver, with growing annoyance.
“Oh, come, now, look at it carefully,” cried Fair, with what seemed absurd warmth to Travers. “Isn’t one of the chambers empty? Have another look.”
“Right you are—one cartridge has been discharged,” answered Travers.
“Recently, wouldn’t you say?” continued Fair.
“Yes, perhaps,” replied Travers, becoming seriously disturbed by this most unwonted development of character in the hard-headed and practical Fair. “But what the deuce is the game, you know?”
“Nothing,” answered Fair, putting down the pistol and turning from the table as if about to turn from the gruesome subject as well. “I had a fancy that I wanted you to notice these little details. I may ask you to remember them some day. By the way, you are going to Drayton Hall tomorrow?”